


Recollections: Panic

by Stark_Black



Series: Memories [6]
Category: One Piece
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 16:58:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stark_Black/pseuds/Stark_Black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The second in a series of past events in the ‘Memories’ universe. This is the story of when Zoro got his scar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recollections: Panic

Sanji dried his hands and turned off the faucet. He cringed at the state of the sink and did his best not to touch anything on his way out of the bathroom. Nasty place, really. Why did they have to hold NASKA in such crappy gyms? There were at least a dozen or so places around Seattle that could accommodate the event easily. Why they had to drive all the way to Oregon to this lame-ass building that was really nothing more than an abandoned warehouse, was beyond him. It made it feel like they were doing something illegal.

Silently, Sanji moved down the corridor and slipped out the emergency exit. If he did it quick, he could have a smoke, get back inside and back to Shanks before his coach suspected anything. Everyone was so pumped from Zoro’s last fight that no one was really paying attention to anything else at the moment anyway—might as well take the opportunity. Leaning against the brick wall, Sanji inhaled and slowly let it out with a soft growl. 

Zoro… now there was a word that inspired feelings of mass destruction. Every time that ass-hole was in the room, Sanji wanted to kick something. He wanted to smoke an entire pack of cigarettes and scream obscenities until his voice gave out. Zoro made him hot and cold and happy and sad and frustrated all at once. The guy was impossible. He was rude and indifferent and just downright unpleasant. He never talked, you couldn’t get two words out of him at one time, and on the off chance that you did, it was usually something along the lines of “whatever” or “screw you”. The swordsman got on Sanji’s nerves like nothing else in the known universe. 

But that did not mean that Sanji didn’t like Zoro.

Over the last few months, Sanji had made a very important discovery about himself, one that he should have realized a long time ago, but really, what did it matter? He had figured it out, and that was really what life was all about, right? Self discovery? The realization had come to him in a moment of clarity after a fight. He had been sweating and his muscles ached, he had taken a breath and had fixed a fierce glare at the scowling, green haired man in front of him. 

“You done yet, shit-cook?” Zoro had growled.

“No,” Sanji had snarled back. “Are you?”

That’s when Zoro had smiled.

In retrospect, Sanji should be grateful to the swordsman, because without him, Sanji would have never made the discovery. Those white teeth had flashed, and those eyes like freshly-polished shoes, had burned. That look made Sanji hesitate, and for that he had been knocked to the ground, flat on his back. Zoro had given him hell for it, but Sanji had just laid there, basking in the glow of a true epiphany. He lay there so long in fact, that Zoro actually started to worry. In the end, the swordsman helped him up and took him to the locker room.

Now, the cook leaned his head against the cold bricks and blew a long stream of smoke. His discovery had been simple, enough so that he was a little ashamed that he hadn’t noticed it before.

Sanji had discovered that he liked nothing more than an impossible challenge, and because he liked an impossible challenge, he liked the challenge of Zoro. He liked Zoro for all of his impenetrable walls and hurtles. He liked Zoro and his rivalry and his fights. He liked everything about Zoro because everything about Zoro was impossible.

He wanted Zoro’s friendship more than anything, because Sanji knew that if they ever became friends—even as unrealistic as that actually was—Sanji knew Zoro would keep challenging him.

And Sanji knew, deep down, that Zoro liked that challenge too. Zoro possibly _loved_ it.

Then, as if thinking so hard about Zoro somehow summoned him, the emergency exit Sanji had just slipped through minutes before opened with a crash, and Zoro’s voice sounded loud and furious in the night air. Sanji had to use his honed reflexes to jump out of the way before the large, metal door crushed him against the wall, and the cook hurled around to shout a slew of nasty insults at his teammate.

But what Sanji saw at that moment stopped those words dead in his throat.

Zoro really was furious, and he was talking, _a lot_. Sanji had never heard so many words come out of the swordsman’s mouth at one time. And the guy that had followed him outside, wasn’t that Hawk? The guy Zoro had just lost to in the most amazing match Sanji had ever seen before in his entire life? What were they arguing about? Sanji slipped into the small group of bystanders that had followed the two amazing swordsmen through the doors. The cook had a bad feeling, and for some reason, he knew he needed to be closer.

“It shouldn’t have even counted!” Zoro said angrily. “There’s rules in tournaments that make it so you can’t fight like you would in a real fight!”

Hawk stood his ground, crossing his arms over his chest. His amber eyes flashed dangerously as his smiled softly at Zoro.

“So,” Hawk’s voice was quiet, “you want to have a more realistic match, is that it?”

“Yes.” Zoro pulled his three swords from their sheaths, the white one he took such tender care of, he slipped between his teeth.

Hawk looked at Zoro for a long moment, and then turned his gaze to scan the small crowd watching them. “You heard him. He asked for this.”

Sanji’s blood ran cold. He saw what was coming even before it happened. He opened his mouth to call out Zoro, tell him to stop, but he wasn’t fast enough.

Neither was Zoro.

Steel flashed and the two swordsmen moved. They crossed paths, both swinging their swords expertly. Zoro’s blade came from above, veering down to cut through the middle. Hawk’s claymore swung up in a high arc, slicing across Zoro’s chest. The crack of one of Zoro’s swords shattering was loud in the almost silent aftermath. The pieces fell to the ground, bounced once before they fell silent. Droplets of blood flew high and landed on the concrete between the two men.

“Zoro!” Sanji cried.

Zoro’s eyes found him. That deep black regarded Sanji like a stranger for a moment before recognition softened them. The swordsman broke the contact quickly, however, and turned away, leaving Sanji in a trembling and almost heated state.

Zoro faced Hawk again. He dropped his broken sword on the ground, and took the white one from between his teeth. Hawk readied his stance.

“What now?” he asked.

Zoro grinned, and held up his arms. “I'm ready for whatever you mean to give me.”

Hawk smiled then. “You have a strong will. Don’t ever lose that.”

Hawk moved. Steel rang, blood flowed, and Zoro fell to the ground. Sanji pushed people aside and was down the steps in an instant. He rushed to Zoro’s side and put his hands over the gaping wound across the swordsman’s chest.

“Zoro!” he cried. 

Zoro coughed, and looked up into Sanji’s face. “What the hell are you doing here, shit-cook? Don’t you have some skirts to chase?”

“Shut up,” Sanji whispered. “You’re gonna fucking bleed to death and you still manage to be an ass-hole to me.”

Sanji ripped Zoro’s uniform top open and almost gagged at what he saw. The flesh was sliced clean from shoulder to hip. The cut was so deep, Sanji could see Zoro’s ribs.

“Oh shit…”

Swallowing thickly, Sanji gathered his wits. He turned to the small crowd and shouted for someone to call an ambulance. Then he pulled his own uniform top off and slipped a sleeve underneath Zoro’s lower back. Sanji knew from years of preparing meats, that tying the pieces together with string sealed the cut ends together nicely. He positioned the sleeves on either side of where the cut was deepest, and pulled them together tightly. The flesh closed, and the bleeding slowed.

“Oh, thank God,” Sanji breathed. He tied the sleeves together, and pulled his undershirt off to use as a second bandage. He pressed on the wound, praying silently that it would be enough until help arrived. “Don’t you die on me, Marimo. I’ll fucking kill you if you die.”

Zoro coughed again, and slowly opened his eyes. “Hey… hey, shit-cook.”

Sanji leaned down, glaring angrily as he held Zoro together. “What?”

Zoro flinched in pain, but then relaxed. He opened his mouth slowly as his eyes searched Sanji’s face.

“You know… you have really beautiful eyes…”

Sanji felt the ground fall out from beneath him. Everything around him seemed to fade away at Zoro’s words. The commotion of people and the sounds of an approaching siren were only a distant memory as Sanji stared hard at the green-haired man beneath him.

“I… I what?” he stammered.

Zoro’s eyes slipped closed. “So blue… like the ocean… They make me stupid…”

Sanji’s mind was still reeling, but he had enough sense to know that Zoro had passed out. “ _Fuck!_ ” he shouted. “Zoro! Don’t you fucking pass out on me, you pansy-ass mother-fucker! I swear to God I’ll climb down into the pits of hell and bring you back up here so I can beat the living shit out of you! You hear me you son of a bitch!? _You hear me!?_ ”

Tears were streaming down his cheeks, but Sanji didn’t care. He couldn’t lose the swordsman like this. It wasn’t fair. If anyone was going to kill Zoro, it was going to be him! No one else got that privilege, damnit!

“Sanji… Sanji…” A soothing voice was speaking in his ear. When Sanji looked up, he saw Shanks, surrounded by EMTs and police. 

“You have to let him go so the paramedics can work on him,” Shanks said softly.

“Oh…” Sanji sniffed and looked back down at Zoro. He reluctantly pulled away, letting the uniformed men take over. They lifted Zoro onto the stretcher and loaded him into the ambulance.

Shanks put his arm around Sanji’s shoulders as they watched the aid car drive away. “Come on. I’ll drive to the hospital.”

Sanji nodded and turned away, wiping at his cheeks as inconspicuously as he could.

* * *

Both Sanji and Shanks shot to their feet when the doctor called Zoro’s name. The swordsman had been in surgery for the last three hours, and Sanji’s nerves had begun to fray.

“Well?” Shanks asked.

“He’s going to be fine,” the doctor said.

Sanji let out a long breath and slumped back into his chair. Relief coursed through him so strong it made his head spin.

“He’s going to need a few weeks to recover,” the doctor continued, “and he’s going to have a wicked scar, but other than that, he’ll be back to his old self in no time.”

Sanji didn’t listen to the rest, he just sat stone-faced, zoning out as he studied the wall. When Shanks sat down beside him, the cook made no moves to acknowledge him.

“You know,” Shanks said quietly. “That doctor told me that if someone hadn’t tied him up like that, Zoro probably would have bled out before they could get him here.”

Sanji said nothing.

“Sanji…” Shanks said, putting his arm on the cook’s trembling shoulder. “You saved his life…”

Sanji’s fingers tightened in the thin fabric of his t-shirt. He looked down at himself covered in Zoro’s blood, and took a breath.

“Yeah, well, even so… this is one day I’d like to forget…”

With that, Sanji began to weep. Shanks put his arm around him. They stayed that way for a long time, waiting for Zoro to wake up.

END


End file.
